In plain words
The poet, longing for Śrīraṅgam: Brahmā on the lotus thronged by bees, Hara, Indra with the throngs of the other gods, the heavenly maidens [Rambhā and her companions], and the gatherings of sages of clear understanding [Sanaka and the others], all jostling one another, strew flowers in direction after direction as they go and gather at Araṅgam of the groves full of honey-laden blossoms, where the Lord hued like the sea has mounted the serpent and lies in sleep. When will the day come, I wonder, when I see his lotus eyes and his holy face, radiant as the moon, and my heart utterly melts?